Five Things That Never Happened to Jackie Harris
by sciencekitty
Summary: Five things that didn't happen to Jackie.


_**One**_

"Someday," Katherine says with an air of sophisticated confidence, "I will _own_ this city."

Jackie's still in bed, lazily stretching like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Her feet are tangled in what's left of the jumble of sheets at the end of the bed, and she watches as Katherine elegantly takes a drag of her cigarette. The visual is perfect. A leggy, beautiful woman bathed in the early morning sunlight that streams through the studio apartment's only window, and Jackie fights the urge to grab the nearest sketchpad and pencil.

"Let's just pass this class first, ok?"

Katherine turns and the smoke follows, curling delicately around her face as she smirks.

"Pass? Please. We're brilliant. Just _look_ at these."

She gestures to the easels beside her where their half-finished designs wait to be completed, then fingers the edges of one of their portfolios.

"And of course, there's plenty more where those came from in here."

"Oh, come on. _You're_ brilliant," Jackie protests modestly, "I'm just trying to keep up."

She sits up against the headboard of the bed and tucks the sheet around her. "I'll be lucky if I make it through the semester ok."

Katherine rolls her eyes and puts out the cigarette, tossing it into a nearby ashtray. "That's not what Johnson thinks," she counters, in reference to their professor. "He seems to think you've got more talent than you want to admit to."

She walks back over to the bed and drops to her knees on the mattress, then swings a leg across Jackie's lap and straddles her, sliding effortlessly into her lap. She presses a kiss to Jackie's lips and pulls back, giving her a wicked grin.

"And he's got no idea how right he is about that."

 _ **Two**_

The kitchen light flips on as soon as she opens her sister's back door and she's nearly deafened when a whole room's worth of people loudly yell surprise. Roseanne stands in the middle of it all grinning so hard that her face looks like it could split in two.

"Congratulations, _Detectiv_ e!"

The cake has a pair of handcuffs and a baton drawn on it and the balloons are red and blue ( _just like the lights on police cars!_ DJ says excitedly) and Jackie feels so loved she could cry. She does later, after the party when Roseanne hugs her real tight and tells her how proud she is of her.

They're sitting at the kitchen table all teary-eyed over their coffee, and Dan lightens the mood by slugging Jackie in the shoulder and saying, "way to go, kid."

Roseanne laughs.

"Ok Jackie, there's just one thing you have to explain to me. I don't get this whole plain clothes thing. A detective is higher, right? So they should have even fancier uniforms. You can wear your regular clothes anywhere. How's anyone gonna know you're a cop now unless you tell 'em?"

Jackie's been waiting for a chance to do this all night, so she takes just a second to make sure she gets it right. In one swift movement, she reaches into her back pocket and grabs her leather badge wallet, then expertly flips it open in Roseanne's face.

"Detective Harris, Lanford PD."

Roseanne blinks, and then a slow smile creeps across her face.

"Cool!"

Jackie beams. "I know! I look pretty neat, huh?"

Roseanne glances at Dan and then back at Jackie, leaning in.

"So how many times did ya practice that before you came over here tonight?"

 _ **Three**_

It's late by the time her nieces finally head up to bed, still amusing themselves by singing _Tomorrow_ as they climb the stairs. Jackie knows that logically, there's no reason to worry. Roseanne and Dan planning to stay out late and scare the girls is the whole reason she's at their house to begin with. They'd be home soon and they'd all laugh about the failed scheme and she'd go back to her place and everything would be fine. Still, she figures, there's no harm in waiting up for them. At least one thing she told the girls is true. As cold and icy as the night is, there are bound to be plenty of accidents. That thought in mind, she peers through the windows at the front of the house one last time before turning out the light and kicking off her sneakers. Deciding to watch TV until they get back, she curls up at the end of the couch and reaches for the remote.

A few hours later she's jolted awake by the shrill ring of the phone and she groans, reaching out an arm to grab the receiver. Confused when her hand makes contact with nothing but air, she rolls over and stretches her fingers out farther. It's only when she hits the floor that Jackie remembers she fell asleep on her sister's couch instead of in her own bed. The afghan she pulled down over herself during the night is tangled around her legs and she pushes it off as fast as she can and rises to her feet, disoriented.

Oblivious to her struggles, the phone keeps ringing insistently, threatening to wake the whole household. She stumbles toward the dark kitchen and snatches the phone off the hook, ready to murder the person on the other end of the line.

"Do you know WHAT TIME IT IS?!" she demands into the receiver.

There's a beat of silence before the person speaks, and Jackie realizes the irony of her statement. _She_ doesn't even know what time it is. All she knows is that it's dark and someone is calling Roseanne's house in the middle of the night and she's the one answering the phone because nobody else got up to do it and…..the pieces start to click into place as the man starts talking.

The phrase _identify the bodies_ is the last thing she hears before she drops the receiver and makes it to the sink in just enough time to be sick.

She's not sure how long it is before she makes it back to the phone and nods robotically, mindlessly taking notes as the man whose name and title she can't remember dictates information that she'll eventually need once she gets her head together.

The next morning, Jackie can hear the arguing from a whole floor away, and she listens from where she's still sitting in the chair under the phone as the girls thunder down the stairs. Becky stops in her tracks as soon as she sees her aunt, causing Darlene to run right into her.

"Geez, Beck. Learn to walk," Darlene exclaims irritably. She makes an exaggerated walking movement with her hands. "You remember how to do that, right? One foot in front of the other?"

Becky throws an elbow into her sister's side. "Shut _up_ , Darlene."

She gestures toward Jackie, who is desperately trying to compose herself.

"Aunt Jackie?" Becky asks timidly.

Jackie looks up and takes a deep breath.

"I really need you guys to sit down for this."

 _ **Four**_

It starts as her personal method of revenge.

Fisher flirts just as naturally as he breathes and it seems that wherever they go and whenever she turns around, he's charming the socks off yet another woman. She complains and he looks wounded, saying he's just being friendly, making small talk, meeting people. Their discussions on the subject always leave her feeling guilty, wondering if she really is being as spiteful and controlling as he implies.

Jackie notices that he has a type, though. The women he chats with are blonde and young, younger than she is, with bodies that curve in all the right places and breasts that are large and full. They wear the latest fashions and perfectly applied makeup and hang on his every word. He eats up every single moment.

Jackie doesn't have any control in her relationship, so she controls her body. Fisher flirts and she pushes food around her plate, eating just enough to appear normal to the casual observer. She gets to the point where she's constantly hungry, but it's worth it when he passes up sex night after night, studying her body critically while she dresses for bed. One evening, he comes up behind her before she can get her pajamas on and roughly palms her hip. He runs his thumb over jutting bone, digging into already formed bruises with his fingers just hard enough to make her wince.

"Look," he says cruelly, yanking her in front of their full length mirror. Jackie's naked except for her underwear, and he takes full advantage of that, poking his fingers into her ribs. "Look at how disgusting you are. You don't even look like a woman anymore."

She doesn't argue, careful not to react at all, and Fisher sneers at her reflection in the mirror.

"Who'd want to fuck that? You're fucking worthless!"

He pushes her away in disgust and her elbow slams hard into their dresser. She sinks to the floor and waits until the lights go out before she slides cautiously into bed. The next morning, Jackie has a fresh set of bruises.

It comes to a head when she faints in the diner, her forehead missing the metal edge of the sink by mere inches. Roseanne and Nancy are standing over her when she wakes up, and her sister's hand on her back as she helps her to her feet ends up been Jackie's undoing.

Roseanne's sharp look is all it takes to send Nancy out of the room, and when Jackie sees it then being turned upon her, she wracks her brain for a plausible excuse.

"Roseanne, I –"

"Oh, don't you even start with me. You haven't hardly been eating nothin' and now I could count all your ribs without even trying. You're skin and bones, Jackie. What the hell is going on with you?"

Jackie can't help it when she starts to cry, and Roseanne folds her into a bear hug, whispering that it'll all be okay.

 _ **Five**_

"Why won't you just tell me where we're going?"

Jackie's sitting in the passenger seat of her husband's old beat-up truck with a bandana tied around her eyes. She feels ridiculous.

"Because it's a surprise, honey! Twenty years, a house, a dog and two kids later we still haven't killed each other. That calls for a celebration."

"Then shouldn't we be all dressed up at some fancy restaurant we can't afford?"

She crosses her arms and tries to look annoyed, but he's whistling as he drives and she's quickly falling in love with him all over again.

"This is better," he answers cheerfully, "trust me."

She's been through enough of his surprises to know that he's probably right, so she settles back into her seat and waits. It's only another five minutes before he slows down and makes a left, and then a right. She hears the distinctive crunch of gravel under the tires as he comes to a complete stop.

"Ok," Mike says enthusiastically, " _now_ you can look."

Jackie pulls at the makeshift blindfold until it rests around her neck and grins as soon as she realizes where they are.

"Our first date! I can't believe it's still here."

"I couldn't either," her husband admits as he pays the entry fee. "I thought they'd all been long closed."

He reaches for her knee and gives it a gentle squeeze as they bounce along in search of the perfect spot. Finding one, he pulls the truck in and parks, then starts fiddling with the radio, trying to find the right setting so that they can hear the movie come through.

Jackie can't stand the suspense any longer.

"So, what are we seein'?"

Mike turns toward her and takes her hand in his, gazing soulfully into her eyes. He takes a deep breath and says in one melodramatic whoosh, "Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Her nose automatically wrinkles and Mike chuckles.

"Nah, I'm just kiddin'. They're playing _The Exorcist_."

Jackie rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder hard.

"Jerk," she says with a laugh.

"Like I'd bring you to anything but a horror movie. Remember what they were showing on our first date?"

He puts an arm around her and she smiles, snuggling in as the beginning credits start to roll on the large screen a few rows ahead. The flannel shirt he's wearing is soft from having been washed dozens of times over the years and she lets out a small contented sigh. "We didn't really spend much time watchin' the movie."

Jackie feels laughter rumble through his chest.

"Good save," he says affectionately. "You want popcorn or anything?"

Jackie shakes her head no and turns her head to look up at him.

" _Rosemary's Baby_ "

"Huh?"

"The first time we came," she clarifies, "they were showing _Rosemary's Baby_."

He smiles and then leans in to kiss her.

"Happy Anniversary, honey."


End file.
